Elephants Under The Rug

Did you know?

When you have too many elephants under the rug, it becomes rather an all consuming task. It will take so much of your energy to keep them under there.

You’ll become accustomed to doing it. However, you won’t realize how much life you’re missing, often until so many years later.

Elephant maintenance will take up so much of your energy. When difficult things happen, you won’t have any energy left to handle them. When someone tries to fool you, they’ll be able to take you in easily. All of your energy is going toward those elephants.

A better way of handling it is to take all the rugs outside. Put them over the porch railing. Come back inside and sweep the floor.

Then, you make tea for yourself and the elephants. Have lovely, in depth conversations with the elephants. Talk about everything. Be fearless, even when the subjects trigger you.

Have tea with the elephants on a regular basis, several times a week.

Over time you will notice something interesting. Some of the elephants, despite remaining large, will suddenly seem entirely less impressive and frightening to you. Others will change into bunnies. They will sit there having tea with you looking absolutely adorable. Some others may turn into sparrows and fly out the door when you go out to get groceries.

Soon, you will find that you have room in your life for something other than the elephants. 

You can do whatever you’d like with the rugs. They’re only decorative now. You have a lot more freedom in your life now that you’re not on elephant maintenance duty so much.

Neighborhood Walk

 Going for a walk while its rush hour is more challenging than I expected.  I'll be careful, getting hit by a car isn't on my list of things to do.

The sky has been greying all day, and it's deliciously cool out, despite it being almost mid-June.  I'm not a fan of summer.   As I walk along, yarrow and purple clover nod at me from the side of the road.  The Congregational Church looks beautiful, and peaceful as always.  It makes me smile when I look at it.  I was doing some genealogy work a few months back and went down a rabbit hole in Millbury and Sutton.  One of the delightful things I read about was the history of this church I've lived so close to for decades.

The fence bordering the river is old and rusty.  Behind it, I see remnants of what an older fence might be, with huge iron rings hammered deeply into huge boulders.  I wonder who put them there, what did the neighborhood look like that day?  It must have been hard work.

Climbing nightshade makes her way through the fence.  I pause to listen to the birds, trying to identify who is around, but the traffic is too loud.  Finally, during a brief lull I pick up on a Red Winged Blackbird, a Cardinal and a Song Sparrow.

Time to cross the street again to the pond.  I swear, it seems like some of these people speed up when they see a pedestrian crossing.

There are at least 20 geese at the pond.  I tell them I won't bother them.  Keeping my promise, I stay far enough away to not disturb their little gathering.  There are shadows on the water and a mist over the pond.  I take a few pictures of the pond and sneak one of the geese.

There's some fleabane by the path to the water.  Another Red Winged Blackbird and a Grey Catbird are the soloists just now.

I notice some raindrops on my glasses. I tell the geese goodbye and thank them for letting me enjoy the pond with them.  I walk toward the road, and all 20 heads turn to watch me.   I look both ways, all clear!   Moments later, a maniac driving super-fast in a pickup truck appears out of nowhere and almost kills me.

I get to the sidewalk and he's long gone, so my swearing falls on deaf ears.  The geese are all still staring.  "I'm OK guys, it's all good. I travel with protection" I tell them.  They finally return to the edge of the water.

I don't really mind the light rain as I make my way home.  The rosa multiflora down by the water smells so good, I stop and just inhale for a moment.  Somewhere nearby I can hear Grackles being loud, in their little travelling bird gang.  I'm sure they'll be at my backyard feeders before long.

One last crossing to get back to the house.  Two cars, once in each direction actually stop and let me cross.  I think I might faint from shock!  The buttercups by the front wall are a spot of sunshine in this day that is given to the peace of the clouds and rain. 

I take a moment on the bench out front before going in the house. I think of all the living and working that has happened in this neighborhood as I look at the now empty Steelcraft building across the street. I'm looking forward to finding my notebook and recording all the plants and birds I encountered today.

The next time, I decide I'll bring my binoculars, and my notebook, maybe even an umbrella.....Wait, hold on.  I only have two hands, and I'm getting carried away.

Time to go make dinner.

I take one last deep breath of the sweet, mossy scent of this beautiful day, and inside I go!

Be A Dandelion

 In this world

When things are dark 

And evil pretends to be holy

The dandelion shows the way

Grow stubbornly and persistently

Even when they try and stop you

Show up everywhere you choose to

Regardless of who thinks it's appropriate 

Be brightly joyful and celebrate life 

Despite the attempts to make you see only fear

Let the seeds of your one beautiful, singular life 

Spread near and far

Wherever the wind may take them 

Always remember 

In the end 

"Weed Killer" always loses

The dandelion is CREATION

CREATION is everywhere

BE A DANDELION 

 

Shiny

Everything is so shiny and sterile these days. 

Does that mean I can’t re-use cookie tins, jelly jars and coffee cans?

Wait…coffee cans?  Somehow I doubt used coffee pods are good for much.

I remember lots of people made nail holders by attaching Gerber baby food jars to a board. So many garages and sheds had collections of those.

Anyone else eat breakfast cereal out of those margarine bowls made to be reused?

We repurposed so many things. 

Feels like so much these days is designed for single use, then toss away.

I miss that simpler time.

Small Joys Beautiful Life

I’d rather not just grasp

For more and more 

On to the next thing 

After the smallest taste

Of the one we’d just been coveting 

Everything becomes

So cheap and hollow

Sell it or toss it

Like you did with Grandma’s dishes

Gathering dust on the shelf at Goodwill

Better to savor the moment

Save some things for later

Enjoy right here, right now

Instead of next thing

How about right here instead?

That’s what makes special memories 

The pie mom only msde for July 4th 

Grandma’s Thanksgiving turkey 

That cup of hot oolong you’re holding 

The quiet moment reading while the house sleeps 

That’s the good stuff 

And if we stop the cycle of covet, hoard, toss we might just notice it

What We Get Used To

 The silver maple and the oriental bittersweet in our front yard have been together a very long time, decades in fact.  I'm fairly certain they're one in a lot of respects at this point.

From what I gather, the bittersweet is considered invasive, because of the way it wraps around other plants and overtakes other vegetation by smothering.  These two are so intertwined at this point, I can say that's true. 

Could the silver maple survive at this point if someone climbed up there and spent the better part of a day trimming off the endless bittersweet? It's interesting to consider.

People can be like that, too, can't they? Something can be sucking the very life out of us, but if we're used to it, we'll fight to keep it.

Humans are strange creatures.

Holiness

 I can find holiness

Everywhere 

In the thistle by the roadside

In the service dog helping the man in Staples

In the sweet silence after the sun sets

The scent moss gives off after the rain

The rabbit munching grass in my yard

And all those birds the cats and I watch every day

It's in the dad and his kids I saw fishing today

And my mom's beautiful smile 

When it reaches her eyes

Sunday with my husband and sons

Everyday life

Yes, that's holy too

The Prayer

 Chant it 

Sing it

Be the prayer

You'll save them 

Because

They see you there

A prayer

A song

Some joyful praise

Such endless healing

We now raise

So be not silent

Dance your prayer

Let them all know you're there 

The Way

 The land remembers

The soil has recorded it all 

The river tells the stories

While the trees and the wind

Add their recollection 

The stones bear witness

The rain and snow 

Have passed this way before

On their myriad journeys

All of these 

They know more

Than you could ever conceive of 

Night Shift

 As the owl flies

On the wings of night

While the moon

Will lend her light

The scent of moss

From the forest floor

Is carried along

As always before

A pulsing vibration

Now felt through the soil 

From tree to tree

Tis' easy, no toil

Now take the form

And change your shape

Much better to frolic 

And to escape 

At night we shift

Tis' time to play

Our animal forms

Are the very best way

The Old Barn

 Old Barn

Abandoned

Stands against the sky

As dusk falls

Who built it, and when

What were their hopes and dreams

Was there a house, too

Why are they all gone

When the last person walked away

Did they know it was the end

Nevertheless 

The Land

Records all things

Remembers all things 

Lest we forget 

The Re-Membering

The mystical

The powerful

Words fail 

Fullness

Simplicity

Touching all things

On every level

In every dimension

That which you know, but could never explain

The re-membering

Separated by millennia

Yet always as one

Let Go 

It will govern itself 

And you shall be free 

As Long As

 As long as there are poets

Life will be told

In verse and rhyme

It will stick to your lips

Like powdered sugar 

From those grocery store donuts

It will bounce around in your head

While you stir your tea

You will slurp it up

As you try and scarf a bowl of minestrone soup

While everyone

And their canary

Wants something right now

It will share your comfy hoodie with you

As you sink gratefully into the couch

So, by all means

Sort the mail 

Feed the cat (Or he'll never shut up)

And return that call from your boss

But while you're doing it

Remember

Your life is art 

You are a poem

Rather a beautiful one 

I must say

Never stop writing YOU!

Comfortable?

Comfortable in your own skin?

No one has the right to tell you how to be

But, of course

They will 

Because

Humans

Count their expectations as nothing 

And 

Be You

That's beautiful!

Memorial Day 2025

You know something? I think we need to put the brakes on here.

It’s important not to let others be in charge of definition.

By this I mean, who are you? What is America? What is patriotism? For those who are Christian, what is Christianity? What does it mean to be a follower of Jesus? What does it mean to be a good person? 

Today, I think of everyone who has fought for freedom. I think of all of our family members and ancestors who have done this.

I think of all of my ancestors, all of whom were an immigrant at some point. If you are not Native American, this is a fact about you as well. No, it is not different because it was a long time ago.

When American soldiers fought and died in World War II, they were fighting against a way of being in the world that Adolf Hitler was putting forth. Other countries had joined him. It was an effort to redefine the world in a very ugly, horrifying way.

One of the hallmarks of this was redefining worth based on a very narrow structure. And if you fell outside of this, you were nothing and it was OK to harm you or kill you. 

Frankly, I don’t care what your belief system is. If you believe that it is acceptable to limit, harm, discriminate against, take rights away from, or otherwise interfere with the rights and freedom of others then I will tell you now that your values are neither Jesus like nor are they American. If this is your belief system, you are not in any way, shape, or form a good person.

A belief system like this is an abomination.

And today, on Memorial Day, I will remind you that American soldiers didn’t die all over the world for the cause of freedom so that you could curtail the freedom of other people. It’s wrong. And it goes against everything these men and women died for. You dishonor their memories.

For some people in this country, the blowback is because we had the audacity to elect a man of color to the White House, a man who is well read, well spoken, highly educated, and has a love for his country. He loves his wife, is faithful to her, and is a good father to his daughters. 

We had made progress in LGBTQIA+ rights. We were making progress in making sure that everyone had a chance, progress was being made in education being available to everyone. We wanted food to be available to everyone. Wonderful work was being done in women’s rights.

You can’t pretend that opportunity and availability of resources is handed out evenly in this country. It isn’t and it never has been. I’m sorry that our progress in that direction makes you upset. It doesn’t mean people don’t have to work for what they get. It means that we acknowledge that not everyone starts off at the same availability of resources. 

So, we finally started to make some real progress, at least beginning to go in the right direction.

For some of you, that was just unacceptable, and you’ve been angry ever since.

Some people are very open about their feelings on this. Others have spent a life on autopilot and don’t even realize what they’re mad about.

Either way, today I honor American soldiers who have fought and died for the cause of freedom all over the world. And I will not dishonor their memory by allowing anyone to redefine goodness, to redefine America, or to redefine patriotism. This is my America too. And you’re not changing her into something ugly. And that’s what these men and women fought and died for. And that is what I honor them for. You don’t get to dishonor their memories by changing us into something else. And you never will.

Friday Drive

Rowers on Lake Quinsig 

Unity of movement 

Beautiful glide

White lace curtains in a window 

Makes me think of Memere’s kitchen 

Sipping cranberry juice 

Grass needs mowing 

Bunny is using it for a salad 

So it’s all good

I miss Memorial Day events

To honor those who gave all

Definitely going Monday 

Peanut butter cookie on break 

Shades of Grove Street with Dad

I miss him 

Friday afternoon 

Car thoughts 

Life is poetry 

What If

What if there was an oak

Standing tall

Towering and strong

In the forest

What if there were a raindrop

Sliding easily down a mushroom

Under the oak

Landing softly on the moss below

What if an ant came by

For a sip of water from that drop

And then waited under the mushroom

For the shower to let up

What if I sat quietly on the moss

Careful not to disturb

The oak

The moss

The mushroom

The ant

Nor even the drop

And what if we called it

A perfect afternoon

Not For Naught

Do as you must and then do as you please 

In time it all becomes one

There’s rhythm and poetry 

In all that we do 

The sacred in each thread that’s spun

Today and tomorrow

Forever and none

There nothing that’s been just for naught 

Resurrection is now 

And death be it’s fuel 

Yes, always we reap what we’ve wrought 

Hollow

Be the way I tell you to

That’s all we hear from you

You close the door

On all that is good

While the termites gnaw the yew

A corner on the way to holiness

That’s what you think you have

The fakeness and hypocrisy

Are enough to drive me mad

So tell me not the story 

Of your glorious and perfect faith

Corruption and evil 

Is all that you are

A hollow dying wraith 

Windows

The stately old house watches over the quiet street, it’s attic windows like eyes gazing down upon the neighborhood.

Some who had lived here are long gone. A few stayed for a long time . They became a part of her, their echoes always remembered.

Just now, they have all gone again. She waits. It has been so before.

People just don’t last as long as houses.

She stands watch as always, beautiful and silent, all of her memories and secrets gathered to herself.

Tomorrow, there is an open house. It begins again.

The Public Library

The public library in my hometown growing up was key for me. 

Becoming an avid reader of multiple genres and exploring life framed by the dewey decimal system was huge in my formation.

I moved from the child section to the adult section at some point as a kid and nobody prevented me from doing that. I’m thankful for this because I definitely read above my grade level.

Over time, I don’t think there was any section that I didn’t explore and take books out from. Isn’t that delicious?!

In order to be a freely functioning human being, you have to be able to exercise reason . And you have to learn that somewhere .

I have it because of the public library .

My "Beth Station"

Near my cozy spot on the couch in the living room is a little shelving unit. This holds all the things. 

There are word search books, coloring books, sketchbooks, crayons, markers and colored pencils. I have MANY pens, and an assortment of little notebooks and journals, all of which which are necessary.  No, really. They are.

Glasses cleaner, lip balm, hand lotion, two coasters, and a little clock round out the collection.

There are quite a few poetry books as well. Each one has a bookmark. I love to pick out one of the poetry books and read for a bit each day. The bookmark shows me how far I’ve gotten in each book. 

My friend Nicole came over the other day. She took one look and said "And there’s your Beth Station." I smiled from ear to ear. 

I love having the things around me that give me joy.

Why, yes. It IS my Beth station. 

All That Is Old And New

In old buildings, I feel safe, most especially in libraries. They have a spirit of place I find lacking in modern buildings. 

I have never had the scared, fearful feeling others get in old buildings. To me, they feel like….home. I can still sense all the living that happened there so many years ago, and it feels so good to me.

So many of these buildings were left to us by local people of means who knew the precious gift was so vital.

No, they weren’t perfect. But, in making certain that schools, libraries, roads, bridges, universities and museums were built, they gifted us an important key to our future. If it also ensured their own legacy, then so be it! 

Nowadays, I don’t see leaders like that. It’s all about lining their own pockets, building power, and eliminating anything that stands in their way.

There is no general national morality aimed at the greater good of our country. This obsession with the controlling of others genitalia, sexuality, and gender expression is not morality. It’s an abusive form of control kink masquerading as holiness.

We are also preoccupied with productivity to the point where no one can stop being a cog in the mechanism long enough to figure out how to breathe and create something of their own. Hard work is a wonderful thing. But lets separate it from a person’s worth as a human being, shall we?

Our inability to unite for greater causes, and to ensure a legacy for future generations is shameful.

Our ancestors are rolling over in their graves at our empty souls and selfish hearts. What are we becoming?

More About Libraries

About Libraries 

I know I’ve said this 1000 times. I’ll probably say it a million more.

Growing up in the 1970s was everything. Living within walking distance to the Richard Sugden library was life-changing. 

No, I didn’t know that at the time but I certainly do now. 

Being able to walk to the library, and immerse myself in the sweet, orderly quiet was my bliss. Perusing the shelves felt so impossibly good! I started in the kids section, and later moved to the adult section.

The old card catalog was a very familiar friend. 

That library is part of who I am. By extension, all libraries are. 

For me, libraries are holy ground.

Limitless access to books showed me that the world, my Universe, was limitless. There was always something to learn, to experience, to immerse myself in. 

It didn’t matter that I was the child of a beautiful couple who had met working in a shoe factory. We didn’t need money for me to go on these endless library adventures.  I could go whenever I liked. Anyone could!

I learned to keep looking, to investigate, to ask questions, and to expect the unexpected. Because the library showed me so many ways for things to be, I never took anything at face value, and I’ve always kept digging. 

My mom and dad didn’t finish high school. It was really common for poor families to pull their kids out of school early so that they could get a job to contribute to the family. This wasn’t cruelty, it was survival. Both of my parents had food insecurity growing up. They made sure I never had to face that.

My mom loves reading, too. My dad was profoundly intelligent. I always wondered what could have happened for him if he hadn’t had the set of circumstances he did .

Well, thanks to the secure, loving home they provided, I ended up happily going off to the Richard Sugden library almost weekly for years and years.

Everyone should have access to a free public library. This is one of the most important shaping factors in my life, and a significant passion of mine. 

It has truly been a huge source of strength over my entire life, and these significantly challenging times are no exception.

Morning

I think you should sleep in

At least once or twice a week 

Roll over and stretch 

Like the cat does 

Don’t give up that perfect cozy spot 

Take a lesson from the kitty 

And enjoy those perfect moments 

Because they’re yours 

Wander around your house 

With your hair sticking up 

Like an anime character 

And stay in your pajamas 

Until at least noon 

Make a cup of coffee 

But not to wake you up 

Just to get enough brain cells firing 

To read a book 

With your feet up on the couch 

Or maybe play a game 

And if it’s snowing outside 

Don’t even bother getting dressed 

Read the whole book 

Play the game for four hours straight 

Do crosswords 

Stretch a few more times 

Make time 

Just to be 

It helps you remember 

What exactly is the point

Of all of this 

#poem #morningwriting 



A Question For Archangel Michael

One day there was a little witch. She sat on her bed petting the cat. She asked Archangel Michael…

"Michael… You know the church people that I used to hang out with long ago? Are there any of them left who truly follow Jesus? I know a few, but are there more?"

For the next 24 hours, the little witch suddenly kept seeing so many people, standing up for Jesus’ words, and acting on them.

Her heart was glad. For her path was very different now, but such people were once her home and happiest place. It felt good to know that the true work still continued for those on that path.

"Thank you, Michael, said the little witch. I needed to see that. We need all the good we can muster." 



What Happens Now?

Today is Sunday, January 19, 2025.

Tomorrow is the Inauguration.

What is going to happen?

How are so many people not who they claimed they were, both from the perspective of Christianity and from the perspective of what our country is supposed to stand for?